


You are a creature of the shadows.

by aliiceangeliic



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Abuse, F/F, Gaslighting, Hurt/Comfort, Jinx is semi-reformed, Manipulation, Past Abuse, Slade was a monster, Terra deserved better, Victim Blaming, death mention, dying and resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 05:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliiceangeliic/pseuds/aliiceangeliic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have been torn apart, left to bleed out your sins like oil and blood. You can still feel his gaze on your back, his voice in your ears, telling you that you chose this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You are a creature of the shadows.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlingneverland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingneverland/gifts).



You put your faith in the wrong people, more than once. And for it, you have suffered. You have been blamed. You have been torn apart, left to bleed out your sins like oil and blood. You can still feel his gaze on your back, his voice in your ears, telling you that you chose this. 

You chose this, and so you deserve this. Even the one you trusted told you this. You reached out for his help and he turned away. You chose this. It’s your fault. It’s your fault he left you in a monster’s hands, and it’s your fault the monster drew you in with sweet promises and firm declarations that he could give you the control you wanted, craved, needed with every fiber of your being. 

It’s your fault the only way to redeem yourself is to die, because you chose this. Oh, but he had claimed Robin too, didn’t he? Wasn’t that Robin’s fault? No, of course not, because you are a monster and you chose to be. It’s all your fault.

So you die. And for the first time, you are truly free.

But death is, surprisingly, just as cruel as life and soon enough air finds its way into your lungs once more, and you are left to gasp for breaths and no recollection of who you are or where you are. You are left to crawl out of metal and earth, out of a grave for two, out of where the earth claimed vengeance against a monster who poisoned all that he touched and his victim. 

You do not remember. And then the boy who turned his back on you says your name. You tell him, as memories come flooding back, that you are not you. That she is gone and you have no desire to take her place. That your life does not include the earth under your feet anymore, does not include monsters and thieves and magic and aliens. That you have a test that you need to study for, that your worlds are different and he has no place trying to drag you out of yours. 

The damage is done. You remember everything soon after. You hold back screams in the shower, claw at your skin and when the city sleeps you run, run as far as your legs can carry you and even farther yet. You are a tainted girl, and though you love the sun, you know your place. Even when you come back, show up at the tower’s door with a smile and a wave, you know. The light is not for you. The shadows claimed you long ago and you let them. It is your fault, after all. It was your choice.

And then you find her. She put her faith in the wrong people, more than once. She took the blame all for herself. She wore her sins like badges, with a sardonic smile, with cuts that let out rust and ash instead of blood and a laugh like bells. She carries herself like a queen, a tired queen who will not fall no matter how the world crashes around her shoulders. And even though she’s weary, she smiles when you tell her a bad joke, and you think that maybe not everything in the shadows is as bad as the world thinks.

She tells you, one day, that she can see gold in your veins. That where there are cracks in your skin, flowers bloom. That he never should have touched you. That it was not your fault. You don’t believe her, but God do you want to. 

She tells you that your freckles are stars and even if your skin is ragged and torn it is proof that you are there today, breathing through broken lungs and a hollow mouth that she swears carries music. You wish you could see yourself the way she sees you. You wish she could see herself the way you see her, but you aren’t nearly as poetic as she is. 

Her hair reminds you of flowers and cotton candy, and there’s so much more you could say but can’t because poetry never suited you- so you focus instead on how she walks without making a sound, yet still makes her presence known with her personality alone. You think of how when people try to blame her she laughs, because it’s the truth, but she still tears them down because she will not let herself be hurt again. You think of how she walks down the streets you’ve both destroyed at least once each, head held high and eyes looking forward when she’s told you before that if she could do it all again, she never would have done it.

You think of how her fingers feel when she tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, and how she breathes when she’s dozed off before you, one arm under you and the other on her stomach. You think of how she’s never blamed you. To her, it was always the monster’s fault. That you were young and still blooming and he took everything away from you to make what he wanted out of your flesh and bones. And how could anyone blame you for what he did? You choke on your words when she tells you this, because of course it was your fault, it was your choice, just like it was hers. 

She looks at you with a curious light, a tilt to her head, and asks “Was it?”


End file.
